


Last Words

by marimoes



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Character Death, failed escape attempt, somehow a character dies and I still classify it as fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: The compulsion comes, just as it always does, tugging on Thanatos’ arm. His hand presses into the air before he can even think to shift towards the cause, and can nearly hear the breath as it pulls back into Zagreus’ chest. He’s far, nearly out of Elysium if Thanatos’ senses are correct.He hasn’t almost died there in a while now that he’s found his footing. Usually, his defiance is spent on the surface where Thanatos can barely reach him.But he can always reach him, no matter where it is that he goes, and that’s all that matters.
Relationships: Thanatos & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 369





	Last Words

The compulsion comes, just as it always does, tugging on Thanatos’ arm. His hand presses into the air before he can even think to shift towards the cause, and can nearly hear the breath as it pulls back into Zagreus’ chest. He’s far, nearly out of Elysium if Thanatos’ senses are correct. 

He hasn’t almost died there in a while now that he’s found his footing. Usually, his defiance is spent on the surface where Thanatos can barely reach him. 

But he can always reach him, no matter where it is that he goes, and that’s all that matters. 

What force he can pick up on is draining quickly, dropping down like sand in a fated hourglass. If not for his work, maybe he could’ve helped him out this time. Mortals die whether or not Thanatos is there, but he’d much rather lead them back into the house than Zagreus. 

Zagreus, who he’s still searching for, shifting in and out of chambers. Each one empty and seared from the battle that took place in it moments before. What’s difficult is that Zagreus’ presence is clouded in something that makes him fuzzy, almost invisible to Thanatos’ senses. 

When Thanatos tries to feel for him, it’s like his edges are frayed. Almost like a foot that hangs in the Styx, tempting death to swallow him whole. Even then, Thanatos finds him, just as he always does. 

The room, much like the others, is littered with pieces of chariots and shields. It’s splattered with the dark blood that falls from the wretches each and every endless time that Zagreus slays them. 

Is he not tired of this yet? Why won’t he stay home, just once? 

Zagreus is slumped up against the mossy edge of a stone statue, one that is still trying to regenerate from the battle. He, unfortunately, cannot do the same. 

“Death approaches?” Zagreus croaks out, head falling back to look at Thanatos. His lips aren’t even smiling like his voice is trying to do, and it comes out nearly deadpan. 

Blood weeps from spear holes that cover his body, front and back. The red fabric that usually covers him is ripped and torn, pulled into jagged shreds that are blackened from small explosions. 

He looks only a fraction of the man that Thanatos conjures when he thinks of Zagreus in his mind’s eye.

“Why couldn’t I see you?” Thanatos demands. 

He knows it’s blunt and direct, but he’s irritated. He didn’t have to be this close to dying if Thanatos didn’t have to take so long trying to find him. 

“Oh, that. I guess it was a boon? Maybe a—” Zagreus doesn’t finish, as his words turn to blood that sputters from his mouth. He wheezes, low and weak, struggling to catch the breath he likely no longer has. 

“You’re dying,” Thanatos states, sinking to the grassy floor, tucking his legs beneath him. “You don’t have anything with you to help, do you?” 

Zagreus rocks his head back and forth, shaking out a no. Another cough, another wheeze, all with skin that falls into a paler shade with each passing moment. He doesn’t have long at all now and is holding on by a thread. 

A single, thin red thread. 

“You can’t keep going, Zagreus.” 

Zagreus looks over at Thanatos, eyes shut in concentration before hoarsely speaking, “Yes, I can. I’m still alive, aren’t I?” 

Thanatos tsks, running a hand across Zagreus’ chest. His fingers drag the blood across his skin like smeared paint on a canvas. If the canvas was someone he loved and wished for it to remain blank of paint forever. This piece, bright and strong, is often shown to no one of importance before it fades away into the Styx again. 

To have this viewing—Thanatos can’t say that he would like to be present for it again. 

“Let me take you home. Just come with me and you can start again, but I can’t in good conscience let you walk into the next room and die there,” Thanatos urges, cupping Zagreus’ jaw to steady his focus. “Please, Zagreus.” 

“Full name, twice in under two minutes. I must look terrible for you to sound like that,” Zagreus murmurs, barely peeling his eyes open. “So, tell me. What do mortals usually do when you’re here with them like this?” 

Thanatos strokes a thumb against Zagreus’ jaw, daring to let his lips quirk into a smile. “For one thing, I never hold them like this. You’re a very special instance. I hope you realize that.” Zagreus does smile at this—if a weak twitch of a lower lip counts as a smile. “Usually, they’re panicking because they fear they haven’t done enough before dying. A lot of them are still trying to say their last words when I find them.” 

A choked cough wracks Zagreus’ chest, causing him to jerk in Thanatos’ hold. His skin is now drenched with cold sweat along with blood, leaving him to tremble. His breathing is shorter, inhaled in quick shallow huffs, but his tongue still presses against his teeth in a soft hiss. 

“Last… words… huh?” Zagreus pants out before letting out a low whine. He grits his teeth before tossing a hand out to the shimmering edge of a shield still floating over the ground. “Wish... I never saw... a-h h-brightsword again. Like… that?” 

Thanatos wants to laugh at the truth filled joke, but all he feels is a sense of dread that he’s never experienced for himself. He hears about it from the mortals that surround their loved ones that pass before their eyes. The ones that hold their hand until he takes it from them, eyes wet with tears and words filled with an aching love that he’s often thought about wanting for himself. 

How odd, then, that he finds it in this man that continues to die. 

“Something like that. They talk about the people they love; their children and partners. They talk about the things they did and still wanted to do. All of these words mean nothing to the void, of course. But, it soothes them, I think,” Thanatos explains, pulling Zagreus gently until he slides away from the pillar, down into his lap. His head rests on Thanatos’ thighs without a fight, weak and relenting to everything around him. “Zag, let’s go home.” 

Zagreus turns, yelping out in pain as he does so, to face upwards. His eyes find Thanatos’ and with a shaking hand he reaches up into the air, barely gracing his face. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” 

Heat rushes to the places where Zagreus touches. An unnatural warmth, gifted to him from one of his relatives, no doubt. At least that’s what Thanatos wants it to be, rather than the affection that grows with each time he sees the god of life that lays dying within his hands. 

“Those are your last words?” Thanatos whispers, placing his hand to hold Zagreus’ in place, and can finally start to feel the last flicker of his life source start to fade. His heartbeat flutters under his skin, pulsing unevenly like a butterfly with a clipped wing. “You’re leaving me with that?” 

Zagreus smiles softly, eyes closing as his life fades from him in a final exhale. He falls away from Thanatos’ arms, into the gleaming air that surrounds them. All that remains a moment later is the blood that still stains Thanatos’ hands, and the phantom weight of a head against his thighs. 

When he shifts back into the house, he tries not to wear the pain that still rests on his chest in his expression. It will likely be there until he sees Zagreus back as he should be. Bright and dashing around the halls, wearing a newly mended outfit and a smile to match. 

When Thanatos reaches the edge of the river, he finds it undisturbed. No trail of blood from where Zagreus has run out, no drops of it splattered after being shaken from limbs and hair. 

It’s pristine and quiet, and for a moment—a long, dread filled moment—Thanatos wonders if it finally took. 

The edge of the river washes forward with a soft crest of a wave, and pushing against the surface comes yellow and gold laurels against dark hair. Red shakes away just as Thanatos predicted, flung against the white marble, and the sight makes his chest finally release its hold. 

As he continues to shake off, Zagreus laughs. Full, alive and warm comes the sound of his life across the quickly diminishing space between them. His hand finds its place against Thanatos’ cheek, just as it did in death, but is followed by another to hold him squarely in place. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Zagreus says, lungs now clear but still as determined. 

Thanatos hums in irritation, but can’t make his eyes turn away from Zagreus’ gaze. “Your last words are also your first ones back? I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work.” 

A kiss is placed eagerly against Thanatos’ lips. Soft and welcoming, urging him to sink into Zagreus and forget their surroundings. And he would, if not of the chime of a laugh from his brother that rings faintly against the walls behind him.

“This isn’t how death is supposed to work either, if I’m not mistaken. All this special treatment and kisses. I don’t think mortals get this, you know. Why can’t I follow your lead?” Zagreus grins, giving one last quick kiss before releasing Thanatos’ face in favor of grabbing his hands. “Let’s go get a drink before I run off again.” 

“Dying of thirst?” Thanatos teases, nudging Zagreus’ shoulder with his own as he catches him looking him over as they enter the bar. 

“You’d know if I was,” Zagreus sighs, propping his head on his hands, “beautiful.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to get a Zagreus dies fic out of my system. Little did I know I would like it as much as I do. 
> 
> Twitter: @__moes__  
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle


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